


A Rare Jewel

by AquatiiicColony



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Cartoons (Classic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Drabble, F/M, Oneshot, Somebody ordered a flustered mouse?, Thief and Detective romantic aw yeah, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AquatiiicColony/pseuds/AquatiiicColony
Summary: Mickey Jones was instructed to interrogate the elegant thief, Minnie Ann. It’s a darn shame that whenever he managed to get closer to succeeding, he would be mesmerized by her charms. Not that he was mesmerized by her. Of course not.
Relationships: Mickey Mouse/Minnie Mouse
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	A Rare Jewel

**Author's Note:**

> I have returned to writing disney stuff, but with mice fluff this time lol. This was something that came from an idea of "detective that falls in love with a thief that keeps stealing their belongings just because they wanna flirt with them" or something like that. I can't say that the two are in character or not, but I hope so. This was a fun little thing to write though, and I always liked the "I-it's not like I like you or anything!" thing despite it being overused. Anywho, enjoy this fluff uwu!

A common statement was often told to the newly-assigned detectives of the agency, one that was spoken in such a stern tone and comprised with a raspy voice that was due to inhaling too much tobacco. It was a sentence that reverberated against the drenched walls of the office and entering in the sensitive ears of all the detectives present... including the _smallest_ one who had his clothes clinging to his skin, courtesy of the torrential precipitation from outside.

“Whatever you do, under any circumstances, do _not_ engage with the criminals of the city personally.”

That meant a million different things, but the ones that are the _most_ important are friendship _and_ romance. It was one thing to interact with a mugger and interrogate them, but it was another to allow them to go off with a warning and a kiss to the cheek. It was, from the agency’s point of view, _treason._ It was betraying the city. It was spitting in the innocent civilians’ faces.

Michael’s head was pounding from all of the thoughts that are crammed into it like stuffing chewed bubblegum under a school desk. It thundered much like the commotion outside, or as chaotic as the raindrops that smack against the glass plane of the windows. Whatever it all was, it was just enough to disturb Mister Jones from his paperwork.

Instead of his copper-colored eyes focusing on the files that are sprawled across his desk, they are pinned upward to the spinning ceiling fan that has been collecting dust bunnies (funny, how this fan is _clogging_ the air rather than bringing clarity to it). Each of his hands, adorning gloves that hid all the cuts he received from gathering the papers, were stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat, and in one of those pockets, there was a photograph.

A photograph of a certain dame that he met not too long ago. She was... so _different_ compared to other criminals that he has seen. Instead of stealing from local stores and banks in order to make a living or to financially support their life, this mouse thought it would be best to steal from _him_ out of all people, and for what?

Oh, he isn’t sure. That was what was the confusing part. That was what he attempted to avoid when learning about that golden rule: To _never_ interact with a criminal personally. Not that he really _did,_ though. She only took some belongings of his to garner his attention. She even took his fedora to brush her hand on his cheek, to make him come closer towards her, and for their eyes to lock onto one another. Her breath was only an inch away. It made his own breath hitch.

Upon closer inspection, Minerva Ann is more gorgeous than any flapper that danced in a club. Her eyes speckled under the artificial lights of the lampposts, resembling sapphire jewels that were excavated from the richest of mines. Her curls framed her dimples, making her coy smirk pop out more than anything else. Her polka-dotted, rose-colored dress swayed as she continued to grab a hold of the detective’s wrist; her other hand clutching hard on the fedora.

It was all just a game. A silly, _silly_ game. It was all ridiculous too. It had nothing to do with stealing a pet’s collar, or taking money from a piggy bank, or taking a special family heirloom. It was just a fedora. A stinkin’ fedora. And yet, _yet..._ it was this that has completely seized Detective Jones in his tracks.

Hook, line, and sinker.

“...I was always curious about you, Jones.” The name rolled off of the thief’s tone softly, and in such a honeyed tone that the detective’s face is redder than her dress. “You are the only smiling face in the city, the one who tries to lift others’ spirits when they can’t, and... well...”

Oh gosh, her nimble fingers are lacing the back of his neck now. Michael found it impossible to get his voice box to spew out a word, or to command his limbs to snatch his hat back. He just - he just - he has no clue why he _couldn’t._ It had to be her charm: To sweep fellow detectives like him under his feet. Yeah, it couldn’t be his heart thumping harshly against his ribcage. It couldn't be that his legs are wiggling as if they are made of gelatin. Oh gosh, _oh no..._

“...I want to see more of that. _In-person.”_

I-in _person?_ Now, what could that possibly mean?

A soft press occurred on his flushed cheek, leaving a red kiss mark. Immediately, Michael concealed it with one of his hands, hoping that it would smear just by the contact alone. Despite that, it left him breathless that the fedora was left on the pavement of the street, and within seconds, the thief disappeared.

That memory has gotten him to shake his head, to stuff it with denial after denial, to prevent him from thinking that this thief is so beautiful and sweet and misunderstood. No. No, it was that this was just a silly little _game._ Evidently, it would be revealed to be just a ruse; a trick. He cannot allow himself to be ringing around Miss Ann’s finger. He _cannot._

Sure, a part of him would want to know what she is talking about. Sure, he wanted to know why she is taking his things and _only_ his things (even if they are as minimal as a fedora), but... but... she is a thief. A _thief._ He is a detective. A lone _detective._

The two of them are on opposite sides. It was not like they could fall in love or be together, couldn’t they?

An image of that smirking face entered his mind. He started blushing again, and with one of his hands clasping on his chest, he can’t try to say that he was catching a cold from the rain.

Is... is he in... what they say... in love? A _crush?_ Attracted to... to... Miss Ann? Minerva? Miss Minnie?

Oh... oh dear... oh my... oh...

“Whuahahah... hah... aw Mick, what have ya jus’ gotten yourself into?”


End file.
